A Wedding Dance
by ilovesunshine93
Summary: Sherlolly one shot. Sherlock is forced by John and Mary to dance at their wedding. He goes in search of Molly, only to see her a man flirting with her, making her obviously uncomfortable.


It was done. John had finally gotten married to Mary. Sherlock stood near a large tree, quietly observing the wedding guests milling about. Everyone was socialising actively, having a glass of wine and chatting with the people around them. _Bored, bored, bored, _Sherlock thought restlessly. He had had a nerve-wrecking night, preparing the right words for his best man's speech. It was something he never imagined himself having to do one day and although he refused to admit it, Sherlock was rather pleased. He smiled when he spotted John approaching him.

"Having fun?" Sherlock asked.

"As much fun as one can get talking to over-enthusiastic in-laws," John joked. "No, it's good. I feel happy. Really happy."

Sherlock felt a sense of relief. He was guilty for leaving John an emotional wreck after the Moriarty incident and was somewhat glad that his friend had managed to find solace in Mary. At the same time, Sherlock couldn't help worrying that he was going to lose his friend. Granted, John had promised to spend as much time as he could with Sherlock, and Mary was kind enough to agree to it. But despite that promise, Sherlock knew that things could never go back to the way they were. John was in a domestic partnership now and his wife was certainly going to be his priority. Sherlock was not going to be able to call on John every time a case arises. He felt the first sign of loneliness building up in him and quickly buried that feeling. _Sentiment, _he thought angrily. _It makes one weak. _Behind, Sherlock could hear the wedding orchestra calling for guests to gather for a dance in fifteen minutes. At the mention of this news, Mary immediately came over to fetch John.

"Come on John, there's a dance soon! Hello Sherlock!" Mary said pleasantly.

"Hello Mary. You look lovely today."

"Thank you! You must dance too Sherlock!"

A mischievous glint crossed John's eyes. "Yes Sherlock, you must dance too…"

"What?" Sherlock asked, absolutely dumbfounded. John grinned widely at him before assuring Mary that they would be over in a few minutes. Sherlock turned to John and glared at him the moment Mary walked away.

"You. Are. Not. Serious?" Sherlock enunciated every word with cutting precision.

"Come on, be a good boy. You are my best man, you have to dance!"

"I don't dance!" Sherlock stated indignantly. Disgust was etched clearly on his pale face.

"Well I can't have you standing here like an idiot while everybody else is dancing. You owe me remember? Now go turn on your genius detective charm and get a partner."

Sherlock stared hard at his friend's face. John looked back expectantly, his eyes bright. "Fine," he relented reluctantly.

Seeing how he was stuck in his current unfortunate situation, Sherlock looked around the church yard, looking for the one woman here that he would actually not mind dancing with.

* * *

Molly Hooper stood by the buffet table, trying to avoid the gaze of a slightly overweight, middle-aged man who was desperately trying to flirt with her. He had been describing his entire life's story to her and she was fast growing tired of listening to his grand achievements. She quietly piled some food on her plate, wishing that the man would leave her soon.

"And with my wealth, you never really know when a girl is into you and when they just want your money, you know? I've had five bloody girlfriends in one year, and they were all bloody after my cash!" the man finished somewhat proudly.

"That must be quite awful!" Molly replied kindly. She did not want to hurt his feelings (he was one of Mary's cousins) but she was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Yes, but I guess that must be the price I have to pay for my wealth eh? You know girls and money. By the way, would you like to dance?"

"No thank you!" Molly said, taken aback. She was nervous around strangers and did not like physical contact with people she barely knew. It made her anxious just thinking about.

"C'mon! A pretty girl like you shouldn't be standing here alone!" the man urged.

A tall, dark figure suddenly appeared behind them. "Molly! Piling on the food I see? Better leave it behind, we have a dance coming." Molly breathed a sigh of relief when she heard that deep, teasing voice. _Thank god._

"I'm sorry, but this lady doesn't want to dance," the man said impolitely. He was obviously annoyed by Sherlock's appearance. Molly saw the slightest hint of anger reflected in Sherlock's blue eyes. Completely ignoring the man, Sherlock started to turn Molly away. He had just put his hand on her back when a large arm grabbed his coat sleeve.

"Oi! Didn't you hear me? She doesn't want to dance," the pompous man said rather loudly.

Molly opened her mouth to tell him that she did want to dance with Sherlock. _Very much. _But before she could say anything, Sherlock narrowed his eyes and turned to face the man.

"Yes and I also heard that you are rich. But we both know that is not true, don't we?"

"Listen you dick-" the man hissed.

Sherlock took a deep breath. Molly immediately knew what was coming. She thought about stopping him (the man was Mary's cousin after all) but remembered the man's lecherous eyes and decided to let it go.

"Your pants are branded, Prada actually. But the legs have been hemmed, and more than once. This means that they didn't belong to you; they were hand-me-downs. Your shirt, while expensive, is starting to fade. You have worn it often, too often in fact. You don't own many expensive shirts and have to wear this one regularly. Washing it so many times has lightened its colour. Your watch is obviously a fake. All Rolex watches with dates and days are made from platinum or gold. But yours is stainless steel. Should I go on?" Sherlock rattled on mercilessly. Seeing the idiot gawking at him, he decided to continue.

"Oh might as well. Your hair is uneven despite the fact that you have gotten it cut recently. The ends are untidy and your fringe is slanted at the right. It is obviously not a testament to the latest fashion trends, so you must have cut it yourself. The cut on your left index finger shows where you injured yourself while trying to cut your fringe using your right hand. Trying to save some money presumably. Your shoes are scruffy at the edges, meaning you have worn them many times. The slight gap at the back of them shows that they don't fit you well. Again, these are hand me downs. In short, I don't see a rich man. I see a man masquerading as a wealthy one, _unsuccessfully._" Sherlock ended rather cruelly. Without a second glance, he took Molly's hand and left the poor man by the buffet spread, mouth gaping widely.

* * *

The music had started. Couples were swaying gently in rhythm to the beat of the classical music. Sherlock stood at the corner of the crowd with Molly, a slightly disgruntled look on his face. His left hand rested lightly on her waist while his other held Molly's hand.

"Thank you for just now." Molly said gratefully. "He was starting to make me a bit uncomfortable."

"You're welcome Molly. I needed a dance partner anyway. John insisted that I danced." A slightly disgusted look settled on Sherlock's face at the mention of the word 'dance'. Molly had to suppress a smile. Despite his clear disdain for dancing, Sherlock was actually rather graceful. He moved lightly and wasn't clumsy. He had wonderful posture and his movements flowed elegantly. _A bit like a cat,_ Molly thought. A light breeze suddenly blew by and ruffled Sherlock's curls gently, sending a jolt of longing through Molly. She studied Sherlock shyly and took in the shape of his gorgeous lips and how gently his long, slim fingers closed around hers. Her eyes moved down to his body and she noticed how well his tuxedo fitted against his torso, emphasizing his lean muscles. _God, he is extremely sexy, _Molly thought dreamily. She immediately blushed, realising that her thoughts have strayed to someplace embarrassing. She quickly averted her eyes, focusing them on his face instead. She looked into his pale blues eyes and realized that they had a vacant expression. A slight frown creased between his eyes before he quickly made it disappear. Molly had seen this look before. _He's worried._

"Why do people do this?" Sherlock suddenly asked, visibly irritated.

"What, dancing? Maybe because it's a wedding." Molly replied, rather amused.

"Not just dancing. Getting _married. _It's so useless. Imagine being imprisoned by domestic life."

"Well some people like domestic life."

"Ugh, dull." Sherlock stated petulantly. Molly laughed softly, a sweet sound escaping her lips. She loved the fact that despite his genius brain, Sherlock sometimes behaved like a child.

In spite of himself, Sherlock felt his spirits lift a little when he heard Molly's laughter. She was one of the few people he enjoyed being around with. He was rightly shocked when he realised that Molly had thought she hadn't counted. That was not the way he felt about her at all. He was fond of her and he trusted her deeply – she was his friend. Sherlock looked at Molly intently, studying her figure. He never realised how small her stature was – she looked so fragile standing next to him. He noticed the white flowers arranged in her hair and how her yellow dress complimented her skin tone, making her look sweet and gentle. _There's something about her today... she looks... pretty, _Sherlock concluded. _Beautiful. _He felt some of the worry that had been consuming him fade away when he looked into her warm, brown eyes.

"Sherlock? Are you ok?" Molly suddenly asked him.

"Of course I'm alright. I'm absolutely fine." Sherlock replied, surprised at the question.

"It's just...you look worried. Your eyes look vacant sometimes and you're trying to hide the fact that you're frowning. You don't do that when you're just thinking."

Sherlock was silent. He didn't know what to reply to this. He felt a weird sensation, similar to the one he had felt when Molly correctly deduced that he was sad right before the Moriarty incident. It was helplessness. He didn't know what to do when someone saw through him; he was always an expert when it came to masking his emotions.

"You don't have to feel threatened by Mary's presence you know." Molly told him gently.

"I'm not threatened!" Sherlock countered indignantly.

Molly ignored him. "You're afraid that you're going to lose your friend because he's married. You don't have to be. John's a really good friend and he's not going to leave just because he's married. And Mary is a reasonable person, so I expect John to come back and help you with your cases. And you can find me anytime if you need help." she offered kindly.

Sherlock stared at Molly. She had hit the nail on the head again. He had never met anyone who was so apt at reading him – it made him feel exposed. And yet at the same time, he didn't mind that she could deduce his feelings. He trusted Molly completely and knew that she would not judge him. He felt that his emotions were safe with her and oddly, he didn't feel so alone anymore. _Thank god for Molly Hooper. She is...special. _Sherlock felt a rush of gratitude and wanted nothing more than to thank her. Molly looked up at him suddenly and realised that he was staring intensely at her.

"What?" she mumbled, blushing furiously. His pale blue eyes always had that effect on her and that they were only a few inches apart did not help. She could practically feel the heat emanating from his body.

"Nothing." Sherlock wanted to thank her, to thank her for making him not feel so alone. But he couldn't find the right words to express his gratefulness. He had never been good at dealing with his emotions. He knew that the words he used would not be sufficient in conveying his thanks. He would have to use more than words.

Just then, the music ended. Couples started to break apart, moving in all directions. Molly however, was still being held by Sherlock. She looked up at him, who was gazing earnestly at her. She felt paralysed by his stare. Suddenly, he moved his head forward and was inches away from her face. He tilted his head slightly and planted a tender kiss on her cheek, very close to her lips. Sherlock felt the warmness of her cheek against his lips and couldn't help but notice that he liked the feeling. "Thank you Molly Hooper," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the growing din. At the sound of his deep, soft baritone, Molly's heartbeat raced. She swore she could've fainted.

"Thanks for what?" she managed to ask.

"Oh nothing. For dancing with me." Sherlock gave her one of his mischievous smiles that made her heart melt. He let go of her hands and guided her to the buffet table. He knew that she was hungry since she didn't get the chance to eat just now. Maybe he would get a bite too. There was no case to solve anyway.

A few metres away, a very happy John stood with Mary, silently watching the scene between his best friend and Molly. _He might just be alright, _he thought, giving his new wife a big smile.


End file.
